


You could be my blue ribbon winner

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Community (TV), Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior year draws to a close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You could be my blue ribbon winner

The top of Britta's shoe where the laces knot together rubs the back of her ankle, the laces scratching on the edge of her skinny jeans and lifting them up to rub again, slowly, up and down, the top of her shoe against ankle and calf. "Yeah," she says, fighting the urge to cry by rolling her eyes. "I bet Leslie's real fucking proud of you."

Ann ignores the remark, probably storing it up for later--a weaker moment, maybe, when she'll let herself cry over just how bad she has it. Poor Little Annie Perkins with perfect grades and a perfect face who just wants to help people but can never quite help herself. "What about you?" Ann asks, dropping her soft fingers to Britta's bare elbow. "Have you decided where you're going yet? What you want to do?"

Maybe Ann doesn't ignore the remark, because of _course_ Britta hasn't decided. _Of course_ she doesn't know, and the only person who knows how much of a loser Britta is other than Britta herself is her best friend. Who loves her because of and inspire of her loser-dom more and more every day.

"You know," Britta says, rubs her foot along her calf, "I thought I might see the world."

Ann bites her lip, sucking the whole bottom half into her mouth. The seas of students gather and separate around them, rushing in tides. An eternity passes, the lunch bell finally--painfully--ringing, just a half-note too sour. Even tone-deaf Britta can tell the bell needs an upgrade. "And do what?" Ann finally asks.

They are surrounded by only stragglers now, the hallways gone silent, so they attract the remaining eyes when Britta slams her fist against her locker and grunts, "That's all you and Leslie ever talk about! _Do_ ing!" She lowers her voice and picks at a string that's been unraveling from Ann's backpack for weeks. Another inch comes free. Maybe because Ann's eyes are on Britta's fingers, she doesn't expect it. Maybe she wouldn't expect it anyway. "Maybe I just want to _be_ for awhile," Britta says, almost whispering now that the halls are empty. Leslie would be tapping her heels and her watch, but Ann lets the moment happen and that, more than anything else, more than anything _telling_ is why Britta slides her hand under the whole backpack strap and tugs, just barely, until her breath and Ann's breath are mingling. That, more than anything, is why Britta (or maybe Ann) closes the remaining distance and presses lip to lip.

They don't move.

Britta can feel Ann's breath, warm on her upper lip. She opens her eyes even though she's not supposed to because it feels like time is frozen and someone, one of them, should really do _something_. Ann's eyes are squinched tight and she's shaking. Britta keeps her mouth pressed against Ann's mouth because this is now the most terrible and wonderful game of chicken she's played in ever but moves her hand from the backpack to Ann's waist to trace gooseflesh there and shivers on her arms.

It must become too much (it's becoming too much for _Britta_ ) because Ann finally scrambles backwards, mumbling against Britta's lips.

"What?" Britta croaks. She wants to try again. To see how long eternity can last.

"You should apply to at least one school," Ann says, her arms tight around her own torso, doing nothing to stop the blood from riding in her cheeks.

Britta shakes her head, takes a step back. "Nah," she says, because it will always come down to this, it will always come down to what makes her not good enough. "You should travel with me, instead." She knows what the answer will be, and judging by the look on her face, Ann does too.


End file.
